Mistaken Identity
by AnaEvelyn
Summary: Why does trouble always find Jordan, even when she isn’t looking for it? This time, a serial killer is on the loose with a thing for Marines. But someone else poses an even greater threat…
1. NCI Who?

Summary: Why does trouble always find Jordan, even when she isn't looking for it

**Summary: Why does trouble always find Jordan, even when she isn't looking for it? This time, a serial killer is on the loose with a thing for Marines. But someone else poses an even greater threat…**

**This is a semi-crossover with NCIS—but it focuses heavily on Crossing Jordan. Think of the NCIS characters just as extras or guest stars. Not my usual genre, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you like it.**

**Oh, and this is fully in canon with VS7, but it takes place sometime between when Woody and Jordan got engaged and when Jordan got pregnant.**

**And the ever-famous disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever owned Crossing Jordan…that right belongs to someone who decided he'd rather play with superheroes. **

**So, without further ado…**

**Mistaken Identity**

Chapter One: NCI-Who?

"Morning, Luv."

"Morning, Nige," Jordan answered as she stepped out of the elevator. Nigel joined her as she continued down the hallway.

"Have a good night with our dear Woodrow?"

Jordan rolled her eyes and flashed a coy smile. "By the way, how are you and Kate doing?"

Nigel glanced at her. "You're right, we shouldn't be talking about this…so, I got the tox results back from last week's dead soldier."

Jordan reached over and grabbed the report out of his hands. "Marine, not soldier. And why the heck did it take that long to get back?"

"No idea, luv…I would have done the test myself, but the military didn't think our lab was good enough," Nigel replied, his voice betraying his hurt feelings at the implication.

Jordan patted him on the back. "Nige, it's not your fault. Probably some left over crap from Ivers."

At that moment, Garret came around the corner looking grim. "Jordan!" he shouted. "I need you down at the wharf. They've got another Marine."

"Another one? What is with these guys dying?" Jordan responded.

"That's what they pay you to find out," Garret reminded her. "Woody said he'd meet you at the scene." Jordan didn't miss the smile he gave her as he handed her the address.

She smiled back. "A date by the ocean with a dead guy…how romantic."

LINE

Woody watched as Jordan's El Camino pulled into view, and walked up to greet her.

"Hey, Cutie," he said softly and gave her a kiss.

Jordan smiled. "Hey, yourself." Resisting the urge to be completely unprofessional, she took a step back. "What do we have?"

Woody sighed and guided her towards the body. "It looks the same as last time…Marine, brown hair, in his thirties…shot twice in the chest at long range."

Jordan bent down and began her examination. "Liver temp says he died four to six hours ago," she said. "Any witnesses?"

"Just the fisherman that found the body, and he had just arrived," Woody replied after consulting his notebook. "Looks like we could have a serial killer on our hands."

Jordan just nodded.

"You get the tox screen back on the other victim?"

Jordan stood back up. "Yeah," she said. "Nothing—he was clean."

Wood shrugged. "Not surprising. He was a Marine."

Smirking at his naiveté, Jordan replied, "Doesn't make him a saint."

Woody grinned and pulled her close. "I'm done here; I'll pick you up for dinner?"

"Sure thing, Farm Boy. See you at six," Jordan answered. She kissed him quickly before getting in her car and driving off.

LINE

Several hours later, Garret hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes. Sighing, he went see Jordan in her office.

"Hey, I need you and Nigel," he said without preamble, not noticing that Nigel was, in fact, sitting on Jordan's couch.

"We didn't do it!" the Brit exclaimed emphatically.

"Never mind that right now," Garret began. Then his brain caught up with his ears. "Wait…didn't do _what_, exactly?"

Jordan smirked. "Nothing, Garret. Nigel's just being paranoid."

He looked between the two of them carefully, but decided he had better things to do than try to figure out if they were telling the truth.

"I just got a call from Washington DC…apparently, our Marine guy _is_ a serial killer and he didn't begin last week. So, they want you both and the Detective in Charge to go down there and collaborate."

"Great, my favorite city," Jordan deadpanned. "Who's 'they' anyway?"

"Some government agency…um…NCIS…stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service. They're like the FBI for military or something like that."

Nigel made a face and said, "So they just expect us to happily waltz down there and hand over our case? No way…the murders happened here! Make this NCIS-whatever-it-means come to us!"

"Sorry, Nigel. They're calling the shots on this one," Garret said. "I don't like it any better than you do. So just go there, solve the case, and get back here as soon as you can."

They sighed collectively.

"Well…at least there's one good thing about this," Jordan said, smiling.

Both men gave her an 'Oh Really?' look, making her smile more. "Woody's the lead detective."


	2. Competition

Chapter Two: Competition

Jordan rested her arms on a partition in the NCIS building. Their flight had been uneventful, thank goodness. She was waiting for Woody and Nigel to return with the evidence, and for the agent to show up. Special Agent Gibbs…he was already down low on her list of favorite people, and now he was late to their appointment.

"Hey, Zee-vah!" Someone shouted to her, his face inches from the back of her head.

"Excuse me?" Jordan asked. She turned to face him. He was tall, macho-looking…but more like he was trying to hard.

His face changed to confusion. "Oh, sorry…I thought you were my partner," he apologized. His eyes traveled slowly up and down Jordan's body; he seemed to like what he saw. "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, but you can call me Tony," he said while holding out his hand. "Maybe you and I could grab a bite to eat later?"

Jordan smiled, and was about to reply when she felt someone place his hand on the small of her back. She looked up and saw Woody, with his "protective look" all over his face. She looked back at Tony. "Sorry," she said, flashing her engagement ring. "You'll have to find someone else."

At that moment, an older man walked around them and gave Tony a sharp smack on the back of the head.

"DiNozzo, with me!" he said gruffly without stopping.

"On your six, boss!" Tony answered and quickly followed the older man.

Jordan took this opportunity to have a private chat with Woody, who was still looking jealous. Moving a few feet away, she cupped his cheek with her hand.

"Woody, you don't have anything to worry about," she said softly. "I'm all yours…there's no way I would drop you for some cocky player." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Okay," he said. "I guess I've got to get over the jealousy thing." He kissed her back, this time on the lips.

Jordan laughed. "Yeah, big time. You've already won—it's the other guys who should be jealous," she said.

Woody smiled.

Jordan thought for a moment. "Just don't go all alpha-male on me, okay?"

Before Woody could answer, Nigel appeared with two large boxes.

"Thanks for the help, you two," he said, pulling a face. "Well, I suppose we should get this over with…the sooner we start, the sooner we can go home."

The others nodded and walked into the bullpen. The older gentleman was at a desk, and Tony was standing next to it.

Nigel walked right up to them. "Is one of you Special Agent Gibbs?"

"That would be me," the older man replied.

"Good," Jordan said. "We're the people from Boston that you requested. I'm Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh, this is Detective Woody Hoyt, and criminologist Nigel Townsend." She indicated each of her friends as she said their names. Tony's eyebrows shot up into this hair when he heard Woody's name, but he wasn't foolish enough to make a comment in front of Gibbs.

"You bring the evidence?" Gibbs asked.

Nigel held the boxes up higher. "No, I just like carrying large objects around for the fun of it," he answered.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Gibb's face, but it disappeared quickly. "Good," he said. "Follow me. We'll drop those off at the appropriate place and I'll introduce you to the rest of the team."

* * *

After stopping at the break room to pick up a drink called "Caf-Pow," Gibbs led the team to a downstairs laboratory.

Facing a computer screen with her back to the door was a tall woman dressed all in black. A large spider tattoo on her neck was noticeable because her hair was done up in pigtails. As soon as Gibbs got close to her, the girl ran up, through her arms around the agent, and excitedly began slurping the drink.

Nigel moaned softly and touched his heart. Woody and Jordan saw this and smirked.

Woody punched him lightly in the shoulder. "If you try anything with that chick, Kate will skin you alive and then seal you in one of her mummy-coffins," he said.

Nigel's expression rapidly switched to one of sheer panic.

Gibbs turned toward the crowd, which had gotten noticeably bigger since they entered the lab. Two other people plus Tony had joined Gibbs and the Goth.

"Okay," Gibbs started. "You've met Tony. These two are Special Agent Tim McGee and Officer Ziva David. Abby is our forensic scientist, so Mr. Townsend will be working with her."

The Brit stepped forward. "It's Nigel," he said, holding out his hand. He had apparently forgotten about Woody's warning because he gave Abby his most debonair smile.

"You both have one hour to find me something conclusive on this dirtbag," Gibbs barked, while heading back to the elevators.

The three members of his team followed. Woody and Jordan glanced at each other before hurrying to catch up.

"Is he always like that?" Jordan asked Tony.

"Pretty much, yeah," he replied.

* * *

Gibbs and Jordan were once again in the elevator, this time on their way to Autopsy.

Woody had been left with the other agents, having had an equally impossible task placed upon them.

"Rule Number 12," Gibbs said as the elevator descended.

"What?" Jordan asked.

"Never date a coworker."

Jordan looked at him incredulously. "What I do with my life is none of your business."

Gibbs shrugged. "Just an observation."

The elevator dinged, much to Jordan's relief.

Inside the autopsy room were two people…and older gentleman ME and his young, geeky-looking assistant.

Without preamble, Gibbs began. "Dr. Donald Mallard, Jimmy Palmer...meet Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh."

Dr. Mallard smiled kindly and shook Jordan's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear," he said in a strong British accent.

Jordan liked him immediately. "Hello, Dr. Mallard. Well, shall we get started reviewing the autopsies?"

"Exactly what I was thinking…and you can call me Ducky," he replied. Jordan smiled at the nickname.

Neither of them noticed that Gibbs had left the room. As they spread out the files, Ducky began explaining the procedures to Jordan…with some digression.

"You know, I have an acquaintance who is also lady ME named Jordan. Before we met, I thought that "Jordan Hampton" was a man…of course, I wouldn't make that assumption again. It reminds me of the time…."


	3. Sweet Sensations

**Hey, look...an update before the week is out! Yet another reason why I love summer. I would love some reviews, as well. The last chapter was more of a filler...this one has some more action on an investigative and personal level. Enjoy!**

Chapter Three: Sweet Sensations

Woody bit back a groan as another paper wad went soaring over his head. He honestly didn't know how the other agents could stand being around DiNozzo for more than five minutes. He never did any work, and bullied the other guy agent relentlessly. Woody liked the other one—McGee—even if he was a bit geeky. He was kind of like Bug and Nigel mixed together; he had Bug's nerdy persona and Nigel's computer knowledge.

The Officer David chick was very attractive, but her looks reminded him so much of Jordan that he didn't really process that fact. Even though she looked as if she could beat DiNozzo hands down in a fight, she didn't do anything about his persistent childishness. She actually seemed to enjoy it.

"So, _Woody_, how's _it_ hanging?" DiNozzo started in again. "What do you make of our serial killer? What's his beef?"

Woody glared at the agent. "First of all, I've heard all of the jokes about my name. Second, the killer is a woman, not a man. And obviously _she_ has an issue with Marine men."

DiNozzo cracked up and the other agents looked over at Woody inquisitively.

Still laughing, DiNozzo managed to talk. "Really, Detective? You know, I don't know how things work up there in Boston, but here at NCIS we rely on things like evidence. We don't get to just make it up as we go. How could you possibly think that this wack job is a woman?"

Woody tossed his pen on the desk and stood up. So much for not being an alpha male. "Well," he began. "First of all, there's the issue that men are the ones being killed. Most serial killers murder the opposite sex—which is usually a man killing women, but of course there are exceptions for every rule. Also, these murders are very clean. All the victims were shot at close range, but not close enough to get the killer dirty. Not like a stabbing would. Women don't like being messy, so they don't kill by contact." His mind briefly flipped to the Ryan Kessler case. "Most women, anyway."

Gibbs had entered the bullpen during Woody's explanation. "That's a good theory…very possible," he said. "But unfortunately, Tony's right. We need evidence before we can base our case on that."

"Evidence is just what we have, Gibbs."

Everyone's heads spun around to see Abby walking in, along with Jordan, Ducky, and Nigel.

Jordan smiled at Woody. "He's right," she said. "Ducky and I went over the autopsies again. We had pulled sweat off four of the nine victims. Two were the ones from Boston."

Abby interrupted, "Nigel and I ran the samples against each other—and they matched!" She looked around excitedly. Everyone stared blankly back.

"Abby, how exactly does that prove that Woody's theory is correct?" McGee asked.

Ducky stepped up at this point. "What Abigail failed to mention is that the sweat was from a female donor. Four DNA matches from four victims that had no commonalities…it must be the killers'."

Gibbs stood up. "Run the DNA, see if there are any matches in the database."

"Already on it, Gibbs," Abby answered. "But it's probably going to take some time."

"Ok, in the meantime I want all three of you—" Gibbs motioned to his agents—"to go over the crime scenes of the other five victims. See if you can find anything that might provide DNA."

"On it," Ziva said. The three packed up their gear and headed for the elevator.

Woody began holstering his weapon. "I'm coming, too."

"No, you're out of jurisdiction here. You've done enough for today. We'll see you at 7:00 AM tomorrow," Gibbs replied. Before Woody could argue, Gibbs had walked away, coffee in hand.

* * *

Woody lay miserably on his stomach. After being unceremoniously kicked out of NCIS by Gibbs, the three had picked up a hasty dinner and checked into their hotel. Nigel had taken the opportunity to explore the city, while Woody and Jordan stayed in.

Jordan sat down on the bed next to him and began rubbing his back. "You know," she said. "Just because you don't get to go to a crime scene doesn't make you any less of a hot, sexy detective."

Woody smiled, then moaned as Jordan switched from rubbing his back to kneading the muscles in his shoulders. "That feels so good," he mumbled. After a few more minutes, he started talking again. "I hate working with other agencies. It's like they always have the upper hand. It makes me feel like some stupid five-year-old."

"Woody, you're great at your job. Just because these people have the power to push us around doesn't make you less competent," Jordan smiled coyly. "Besides, we're the ones really solving the case."

"How do you figure?"

"You knew that the killer is a woman…Ducky and I found the DNA together, so that can't really all be credited to me, but Nigel was the one who started running the DNA samples against each other."

Woody reached up to squeeze Jordan's hands. "Well, I guess you're right. But what do you say we get in their faces tomorrow and force them to include us? I mean, we never just back down because someone asks us to, right?"

"Right on, Farm Boy." Jordan lay down beside him, her hand still on his back. "But I'm glad we got some time off tonight. We don't get to do this often enough, you know."

Woody reached up and stroked Jordan's hair. "I know," he said, looking deep into her eyes. "You're so amazing. I have I ever mentioned that I love you?"

Jordan smiled and took his hand, keeping his palm against her cheek. "Only a few thousand times," she answered. Leaning forward, Woody claimed her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. When they parted a few minutes later, Jordan spoke again. "I love you too, Woody."

Woody's only answer was to capture her lips again.


	4. Working Out

**Thanks for the reviews! They make me happy:-). Enjoy!**

Chapter Four: Working Out

"DiNozzo, anything from the other crime scenes?" Gibbs asked as the younger agent walked into the bullpen the next morning.

"No joy, Boss." Tony turned towards his desk, but found Woody sitting in his chair. Woody smiled. Tony turned away disgruntled.

Ziva joined them. "They're all clean as a flute," she said.

"Whistle, Ziva," Tony corrected. "Clean as a whistle…though I never really understood that one."

Jordan came around from her place behind Woody. "Not really surprising, since they've all been released," she said. "Nigel, did you and Abby get any hits from the DNA database?"

"Not a one, luv," he replied. "So our fem fatal is not in the military, nor has she ever committed a crime before."

"You mean she's never been caught," interjected Woody. "If she's gunning down Marines, I doubt that this is her first offense."

Jordan continued, "All right, so we need to—"

"Stop talking and get to work!" Gibbs yelled.

Jordan spun around and glared at him. "What do you think we're doing?" she asked.

"First of all, this isn't only your case. You don't have the authority to take it over. Second, I'm in charge," Gibbs replied.

Jordan smirked. "Well, you'll have to be a bit flexible. Where we come from, we don't usually care about rules or authority figures."

Gibbs looked like he was thinking about head slapping her, even if she was a girl.

Woody stood up. "You asked for us to come down here…if you don't want our help, we'll take our evidence back home to Boston and solve the case from there," he said.

"We've been doing most of it for you, anyway," Nigel added softly.

They were met with silence. The three agents on Gibb's team looked shocked—no one had stood up to Gibbs like that in recent memory. Gibb's face was unreadable.

Then he smiled a bit. "Okay…what are you proposing?"

"We need to figure out how the killer chooses her victims," Jordan said. "Not necessarily the pathology—we won't be able to really figure that out until we know who she is. I mean where she finds her victims—hopefully, she follows a pattern that we can pick up on."

"McGee!" Gibbs called.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Pull up the reports on all the victims. Find out where all of their bodies were found, and the last place they were seen alive."

"On it."

Within a few minutes, McGee had the data pulled up on the plasma screen TV. "Okay…we've got victims found on the beach, in alleys, in the park, at their homes…nowhere in common."

"How about the last place they were seen?" Woody asked.

"That might be more promising," McGee went on. "Two of them were last seen running on the beach…including one from Boston…three were at the base gym…another one running in the park…and the last three were last seen doing calisthenics with their units."

"How is that more promising, Probie? They may have been in groups…kind of, but they're mostly McScattered all over town," Tony teased. Gibbs smacked him on the head again. "Thank you, Boss."

"Well, they were well-built, yes?" Ziva looked towards Jordan, who nodded. "Perhaps they were all exercising." She looked over at Tony. "Of course, I can see why you wouldn't be able to figure that out."

Woody couldn't help a soft chuckle. Then he got serious. "I think you're right…all of them were dressed in work out clothes—no uniforms or jeans or anything."

Jordan was still studying the locations. "Anyone could get to these Marines at the beach and the park…but how many would have access to their bases?"

"Yeah, I thought the killer wasn't in the Marines," Tony said. "You have to be one of them to use their gym."

"To actually use the gym, yes you do have to be a Marine…but not to be on the base," McGee said. "What if the killer works on base?"

"That makes sense," Ziva commented. "But how did she get to Boston, then? Transferred?"

Jordan referred back to the plasma. "Neither of them was last seen on base, so she wasn't necessarily transferred."

"Vacation," Gibbs said. They all looked at him. "She was on vacation…that's why there were only two murders in Boston."

"How can you be sure, though?" Woody asked. "The Boston murders were the last two…she could still be there."

"My gut," Gibbs answered simply.

The phone rang. Tony answered it. When he hung up he said, "Gut's working just fine, as usual. They just found another body."

"Gear up," Gibbs said. He looked at Jordan, Woody, and Nigel. "You three stay here…see if you can pull anything else out of the reports."

Woody already had his gun holstered. "I don't think so," he said. "We're going too, or we're going back to Boston."

Gibbs sighed. "Fine, but stay out of the way."

They all moved towards the elevator, but not all of them could fit inside. Jordan and Woody stayed behind to take the next one. Both of them smiled as the doors closed, giving them a few moments to themselves before they reached the ground floor.

Jordan moved close to Woody, putting her arms around his waist. "Nice going, hot shot," Jordan whispered in his ear before giving him a kiss.


	5. Picture This

**Thanks for all the great reviews! They really keep me going. Hope you enjoy this next section.:-)**

Chapter Five: Revolving Doors

Jordan and Ducky were bent low over the body. Around them, controlled chaos reigned as the other members of the team took pictures, drew sketches, and interviewed witness…and Gibbs sipped his coffee.

"It looks like we have another winner," Ducky said. "Or loser, shall I say."

"Yep," Jordan agreed. "Two shots…point blank range. He never had a chance."

"Time of death?" Gibbs asked.

"Liver temp says about two hours ago," Ducky supplied. "And Jordan found some sweat spatter on his shirt, so we'll run it against the sweat found on the other victims."

Jordan stood up and stretched. "We're not far from the base gym…she must have used a silencer. The shots would have been too loud otherwise," she commented. "This is the only murder that actually happened on base, right?"

Gibbs nodded.

Jordan tutted. "She's getting more desperate—maybe not taking the time to sweet-talk the men off of the base first. Why don't Woody and I go over to the gym and talk to whoever is the supervisor? Maybe he or she saw something."

"Take McGee with you," Gibbs said. Woody and Jordan looked a bit put-out, so Gibbs added, "No one will ever talk to you unless you're with an agent."

"Fine," Woody said. McGee was okay…much better than Tony. "Let's go."

* * *

McGee flashed his badge at the Marine at the door and asked to see the supervisor on duty.

"I'm PFC Peterson," a tall, blond man said. He shook everyone's hands. "What can I do for NCIS?"

"Do you know if a Sergeant Myers was at the gym today?" Jordan jumped in. Woody rolled his eyes…it was just easier to let her have her way.

The Marine nodded. "Sure, he comes in here regularly. In fact, he was here just a few hours ago."

"What time?" Woody asked.

"Let's see…he came in around noon and stayed for an hour," PFC Peterson answered. "Everyone has to sign in, so I can get the log book for the exact time."

"Yeah, we'll be needing that," Woody said. "Was he acting differently than the other times you've seen him?"

"No…not really. He's kind of a ladies' man, so he always chats them up while he's here," Peterson said. "Why, is he in some kind of trouble?"

"Actually…he's dead," Jordan said. The Marine's face paled. "He was found on base about 45 minutes ago…are you sure there was nothing strange about his behavior? Or maybe, a certain woman he took interest in?"

Peterson slowly shook his head. "No…no. Like I said, he was always chasing skirts. I didn't see him leave with anyone in particular, but you can ask the others who were here if you'd like."

"That'd be great," McGee finally got a word in.

Peterson showed them into the main workout area, and the three spread out and began interviewing people.

McGee walked up to a woman working on the treadmill. "Excuse me, ma'am?" he said, showing her his badge. "I was wondering if you saw this man here today?"

She examined the photograph McGee handed her. "Yeah, he was here…he was flirting with me," she rolled her eyes. "I've already got a boyfriend, so I didn't pay much attention to him. He got bored with me and tried with another chick. They left together."

McGee waved the others over to him. "This is Detective Hoyt and Dr. Cavanaugh, they're helping with the investigation. You said that Sergeant Myers left with a woman. Could you describe her?"

The woman thought for a moment. "She was tiny, shorter than most women. Umm…she had brown hair…grey eyes, I think. Must have been around 35 or so, and 120 pounds."

Woody and McGee both wrote furiously in their notebooks. Without looking up, Woody asked, "Would you mind coming back with us and working with a sketch artist?"

"Uhh..sure. Today is my day off, so that won't be a problem," she said.

"Anything else you noticed about this woman?" Jordan pushed.

"Well, she wasn't military."

"How do you know?" all three asked at once.

"Because she didn't salute anyone, and there were lots of senior officers around. They didn't raise a fuss, so she had to be a civilian."

Jordan turned to the guys. "If we get a good sketch, we can run it through a list of all civilian employees here, and cross check it with those who were on vacation for the past two weeks."

McGee looked at her for a beat. "Where'd you learn all of this stuff? I thought you were a medical examiner."

"My dad was a cop…I've been doing this since I was eleven." Jordan smiled at McGee's shocked reaction.

Woody just smirked. "I haven't been able to teach her the difference between 'cop' and 'coroner' yet. I don't think I ever will."

* * *

Back in Abby's lab, fingers were flying madly over the keyboard. Nigel and Abby were trying to out-work one another in a fierce, slightly flirtatious, computer-geek battle.

All the while, the rest of the team was trying to keep up with what they were saying. Luckily, McGee was there to translate.

"Okay…basically, they've input the sketch the lady Marine gave us, and they've hacked into the base's civilian employee records."

"Yeah, so we have to download all of their driver's licenses to get a proper picture, and then try to find a match," Nigel said without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

Abby spared Gibbs a glance. "Don't look at me like that! You'll be down as soon as we find anything, but it's going to take some time."

Nigel's machine beeped. He read the screen and smiled wickedly. "I beg to differ, luv." He turned around and leered at her.

After another moment went by, Woody spoke. "So Nige…the results? Sometime today?"

"Oh, right." Nigel turned back around. "Our face matches the lovely Miss Denise Jenkins. Works as a secretary in the Personnel Office."

Gibbs looked at Tony and Woody. "Bring her in."

As they left, they heard a soft "Oww!" as Abby punched Nigel lightly on the arm.


	6. Strike Out

**Wow! I am SO sorry for not updating this sooner. There are tons of excuses I could give, but I'll just say that life is back to normal and updates should be coming steadily now. Please review so that I know people are still reading this. Enjoy!**

Chapter Six: Strike Out

Woody stood in the observation room with his arms crossed. The suspect, Denise Jenkins, was sitting in the interrogation room calmly examining her nails. Woody tapped his foot impatiently. If _he_ were in charge, he'd have been questioning her already. Briefly, he wondered where Gibbs was. Probably getting another coffee.

Beside him, Jordan smirked. "Now you know how I always feel," she said.

"Yeah, well you're an ME. You're not supposed to interview suspects. I'm a cop—that's my job," Woody said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been waiting forever. I'm going to go start. Gibbs can join me when he gets back."

"Whoa, buddy. That's not a good idea," Tony piped up. "Gibbs is very…uh…sensitive about interrogation. You really don't want to get him angry with that."

Woody looked like he was going to argue, but Ziva jumped in.

"For once, Tony's actually right," she said. "Taking over an interrogation is not a good idea."

Woody looked to McGee for support but the agent shook his head. "You're lucky he's letting you in on the interrogation at all."

"Great," Woody sighed.

Jordan smiled. "Come on, Woody. It's not so bad."

He glanced sideways at her grin. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Jordan just laughed.

At that moment Gibbs opened the door, fresh coffee in hand. "Let's go," he nodded to Woody.

* * *

"It's about time," Jenkins said when Gibbs and Woody sat down opposite her. "Why am I here anyway?"

"You've been out of town recently," Gibbs said.

"Yeah. So?"

"Where'd you go?" Woody asked.

"Portsmouth," she replied. "I've got friends there."

"Can we have their names and phone numbers to confirm that?" Gibbs asked.

"What is this about?" Jenkins repeated.

Neither Woody nor Gibbs answered.

Gibbs continued. "The base gym log says that you were there from 12:30 until 1:00 yesterday afternoon."

"I was there."

"Short workout," Woody observed.

Jenkins shrugged. "I don't really go there to exercise," she said coyly. She sighed dramatically. "But I wasn't interested in anyone there, so I left."

"Really?" Gibbs asked. "We have a witness who says otherwise."

Jenkins's stare turned cunning. "Whoever told you that was mistaken."

Both men were silent for a moment. Then Gibbs took out apiece of paper. "We have a warrant for your DNA," he informed her. He motioned to the group behind the glass, and Abby popped in the room a second later.

Jenkins' façade finally cracked. "Why? What's my DNA got to do with anything?"

Woody gave her his best "Farm Boy" smile. "Oh, nothing much," he said amicably. His expression hardened. "Just the murder of ten marines in DC and Boston."

Abby held up a cotton swab and smiled. "Open wide."

"I want a lawyer."

* * *

Everyone except McGee was congregated in Abby's lab waiting on the results of the DNA comparison.

"Okay, I get that this lady is nuts," Ziva said. "But why did she kill these men? What was her rationale?"

"Because she's a crazy wack job," Tony replied. Ziva shot him a look and they started bickering.

Woody leaned over to Jordan. "Good thing being a 'crazy wack job' doesn't always make you a serial killer."

Jordan chuckled. "Yeah, because those two wouldn't have a chance."

"Oh, but I was talking about you," Woody responded. The comment earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs from Jordan.

Before she could inflict any more damage, McGee walked in.

"Boss," he said. "I finished the background check on Jenkins. I think I found her motive."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Today, Probie!" Tony yelled after a beat.

McGee faltered a bit. "Uh…yeah…Okay," he recovered. "After college, Jenkins was engaged to Marine First Sergeant Ron Kressler. Two weeks before their wedding, he told her that his military career was more important than her and broke off the engagement."

"So she's killing people who remind her of the fiancée," Nigel mused.

"Maybe not only those who look like him," McGee continued. "One year ago the First Sergeant was found murdered in his home. Shot twice in the chest. It's a cold case."

Tony sighed and shook his head.

"What's wrong with you?" Ziva asked.

"Nothing," he said defensively. "It's just that serial killers are all so boring…well, except for the murder part. They always kill the people they don't like and then recreate it over and over again. You'd think they'd use a bit more imagination."

Everyone stared at him as if he'd grown three heads.

Abby's mass spectrometer beeped. She hopped over to it and read the results. "We have a match!" she said excitedly.

"Strike three, she's out," Nigel added.

* * *

The morgue crew was enjoying their last night in Washington at a bar close to their hotel. "Another case solved, thanks to Boston's finest," Nigel said. They all raised their beers and took long drinks.

"Thank goodness," Woody said. "Now we can go back to doing things our way."

Jordan patted him on the back. "We did good though. They never would have solved it without us."

"Too bad we can't stay a bit longer," Nigel said wistfully.

Jordan and Woody shared a knowing look. "Having trouble choosing between Kate and Abby?" Woody teased.

"I guess you've forgotten all about Delinda already," Jordan added.

All Nigel did was moan and put his hand over his heart. "Too many options," he said. Then he smiled. "But only one is worth it." He stood up. "You two love birds have fun and I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to go call Kate."

After he disappeared, the couple sat together for a long time just chatting. The comfortable nature they had was the best part of their relationship. Finally, they decided to leave so they could get some sleep before their flight home.

"Hey, Woody, why don't you go on by yourself?" Jordan said as they left the bar. "I'm just going to stop and get some aspirin."

Wood turned to her, concerned. "Got a headache?"

"Yeah, but it's no big deal. I _promise_," she added off his look.

"I can go with you," Woody offered.

"No, you go on ahead," Jordan insisted. "I can take care of myself."

After a bit more persuading, Woody headed off in the opposite direction. Jordan bought her aspirin quickly and started back as well.

Suddenly, someone grabbed Jordan from behind. Before she had a chance to fight back, she felt a sharp sting in her neck. The last think she saw before blacking out was the inside of a large cargo van.


	7. Oh, God

**Wow! You all are totally amazing! Thanks for the reviews; they made me feel really good.:-) As promised, here's the next chapter sooner than the last...I should be able to update about once a week from here on out. Enjoy!**

Chapter Seven: Oh, God

Woody knocked on Nigel's hotel door. "Hey, Nige! You seen Jordan?" he called through the door.

It swung open, with a sleepy-looking Nigel on the other side. "No, Woodrow," he answered. "She is staying in your room…why would she come see me?"

Woody fidgeted a bit. "I don't know…it's just that she hasn't come back yet, so I thought maybe she stopped by to see you."

Nigel rubbed his eyes. "Well, she hasn't. Have you tried her cell?"

"Yeah," Woody said. He sighed. "I'm going to go down to the lobby…see if she's there. Call me if she shows up, okay?"

"Sure." Nigel watched Woody go, knowing the man was worried. Jordan was probably just taking her time…but still, Nigel felt a bit uneasy himself.

* * *

Jordan wasn't in the lobby, so Woody went outside and started retracing his steps back to the bar. On his way, he called Jordan several times, but didn't get an answer.

She wasn't anywhere. Now, Woody was beginning to panic. He found the drug store and went right up to the cashier. He flipped out his badge and a picture of Jordan that he carried in his wallet. Being a cop had its advantages.

"Hi," he said, showing the girl both items. "Have you seen this woman?"

She studied the picture. "Oh, yeah…she was here, um…about half an hour ago."

Woody put his badge and the picture away. "Did you see which way she went?"

The girl shook her head. "We were a bit busy…all I know is that she got some aspirin and left."

Woody sighed. "Okay, thanks."

Once outside, Woody called Nigel and ran back to the hotel. The Brit was waiting in the lobby when Woody arrived, his face marked with worry. They headed silently to their rental car and drove off.

* * *

Slowly, whatever the kidnappers had used on Jordan wore off. She groaned softly at the pounding in her head. Her eyes refused to open, so she tried to take a mental inventory of her body.

She was sore. Her side ached from how she was laying, and Jordan guessed that she had been unconscious for several hours. Her neck was stiff, and her headache had increased tenfold. Other than that, she seemed fine, and turned her attention towards other, more perturbing things.

Her hands were tied behind her back. A quick tug at her bindings told Jordan that she wouldn't be able to undo them. And it wasn't rope holding her hands together…it felt more like twine, or fishing line. They were tied tightly, but her circulation wasn't cut off.

When she tried to move, Jordan found that her feet were tied as well, and her shoes were gone. The floor beneath her was cold, like concrete.

Finally, Jordan forced her eyes open. To her dismay, that didn't help her any. The room, or wherever she was, was pitch black. She waited a bit to see if her eyes would adjust, but to no avail.

The gravity of her situation hitting her, Jordan pushed herself into a sitting position. She used her feet to push herself backwards until she was resting against and equally cold concrete wall. She tried to think, but everything still seemed fuzzy.

There was no way to tell anything about why she was taken, or who had taken her. All she could do was wait.

* * *

Even though it was late, Gibb's team was still at NCIS writing reports for their case. The rest of the building was vacant, so they didn't expect the elevator to swing open…nor did they expect the two men from Boston to step out from it.

Tony lifted his eyebrows and was about to make some snarky comment, but Woody spoke first.

"We can't find Jordan…we thought maybe she came here for some reason?" He looked extremely worried.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope. Everything is finished here…except the reports…why would she be here?"

Nigel sucked in a breath. "Don't know…but she's not at the hotel, and she's not answering her cell." He looked quickly over at McGee. "Any chance you could trace it?"

McGee looked sideways at Gibbs. Not seeing any protest, he began typing. "What's the number?"

Woody rattled it off and in seconds McGee had a location. "It's on the corner of Washington and 56th Avenue," he recited.

Woody cursed. "That's just around the corner from the drug store," he explained. "I checked all over—she wasn't there!"

By this time, Nigel had turned pale and all of them had gathered around McGee's computer.

"Could she have dropped her phone?" Ziva asked, though she knew that it was unlikely.

"No, no, no! She said she was coming right back," Woody said. "Something must have happened…she wouldn't just run off and leave her phone!"

He looked at the agents, his eyes begging them to give him an answer.

* * *

Jordan wished she were still knocked out. The waiting was driving her crazy. Several scenarios, none of them comforting, had been running through her head while she sat in the dark. She wondered what Woody was doing…surely he had noticed her absence…he would be worried sick. Jordan knew that Woody would move heaven and earth to find her…she hoped he would come soon enough.

Just then, she heard a door opening and a chink of light appeared across from her. The outline of a door became visible, and she heard footsteps coming close. She listened hard, and figured there were two people in the hallway. As she heard a key being inserted into the lock, she tried to prepare herself. She would not show fear.

Two men entered and a light was switched on. Jordan squinted as the brightness flooded the room. The men spared her a short glance, but did not speak to her. When her eyes got used to the light, she saw that they were setting up a table, a chair…and a video camera. Her stomach twisted itself in knots, but she tried to swallow her fright.

She could hear the men talking, but couldn't make out what they were saying. While they were apparently ignoring her, Jordan tried to take in as much of their appearance as she could. Both of them were dark skinned…maybe Middle Eastern or Indian. Well-built, but nothing else about them seemed remarkable…no tattoos, scars, or glasses.

Once they had set everything up, the shorter of the two turned to Jordan. Saying nothing, he lifted her up and placed her in the chair. Her binds were adjusted so that each of her hands and legs was tied to the chair. Jordan stared them down the whole time, but made no move to fight. She knew she wouldn't win against these two men.

The man then took a spot behind her, while the taller one kneeled so that he was at her eye level.

He spoke. His voice was soft, but sharp. Other than that, Jordan had no idea what he was saying; he wasn't speaking English.

Putting on a hard front, Jordan smirked. "You're going to have to speak in a language I can understand if you want me to respond."

He reached out suddenly and backhanded her across the face. He spoke again, sounding harsher, but still in the same language.

Jordan glared at him. "I told you, I—"

Another smack, this one harder. Jordan tasted blood in her mouth.

The man spoke one more time, but it was no more intelligible to Jordan. All she could tell was that he was asking her some kind of question. Not wanting to be hit again, Jordan remained silent.

It didn't work. This time, he hit her twice. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. He leaned forward so that his face was less than an inch from hers. He repeated his request, but all Jordan could do was shake her head in confusion.

The man let go and shouted at the other man. That man walked over to the video camera and turned it on.

Without saying another word, both of them approached Jordan and began to beat her.

* * *

The group gathered at NCIS hadn't been able to come up with any reasonable explanations for Jordan's absence. They had lapsed into silence, standing in the middle of the bullpen.

McGee's computer beeped. Woody looked up expectantly, thinking that Jordan's cell phone had moved. McGee, however, looked confused…then alarmed.

"B-Boss," he stuttered. "Boss, I've got a video feed coming through on my computer…I didn't do anything…it's tunneling through all the firewalls!"

"Put it on the plasma, McGee!" Gibbs said.

McGee quickly complied. The video came up…Jordan easily in view. The two men were punching and kicking her…and yelling in the same language as before.

Woody's and Nigel's faces drained of what little color they had left. Woody snapped out of his shock and began yelling at the NCIS agents to do something.

Everyone started moving at once, except for Ziva. She looked almost as pale as Woody.

"Ziva," Tony called. He shook her. "Ziva, what is it?"

She never took her eyes off the screen. "Oh, God," was all she said.

Woody stepped over to her. "What? What is it? Do you know these men?" he asked desperately. Ziva swallowed hard.

"They think she's me."


	8. A Little Knowledge

**I'm sorry! My internet connection went out on Saturday, and the company wouldn't fix it until yesterday...and then I got sick. The good news is that I'll have another chapter posted by Sunday, so you won't have to wait too long. Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Eight: A Little Knowledge

On the video, one of the men turned around. Then the screen went black.

Ziva, Nigel, and Woody continued to stare at it, as if simply watching the plasma screen could bring Jordan back to them.

Woody slowly turned towards Gibbs, and then started yelling. "Where is she? You have to find her! You have to find her now! You can't just leave her there! Come on, do someth—"

"Sit down, son," Gibbs commanded. When Woody made no move to do so, Gibbs took him by the shoulders and gently forced him into a chair. "Listen to me." Gibbs waited until Woody calmed and looked him in the face. "We will find Jordan. I promise you that," Gibbs started. "But she does not need you panicking. You're no help to her if you do that. We'll find her, but you have to stay calm."

The two men stared at each other until Woody nodded. He took a few deep breaths. "Okay…," he said. "What do we do?"

Gibbs turned around. "McGee!"

"Yeah, Boss."

"Trace that video!"

"On it, Boss. It won't be easy, though. There a bunch of firewalls and re-routing objects to pass through, and…," McGee trailed off under Gibbs's stare.

Nigel walked swiftly over to McGee's desk. "I'll help. With both of us, we should have it in no time. Where's Abby? Can she help?"

"Abby went home already," Tony replied. "I'll see if I can get her on her cell."

Gibbs shook his head. "See what those two come up with first. I need you to start going through all of Ziva's files…call Mossad if you have to."

Tony dropped his phone. "Okay, but shouldn't Ziva?"

Gibbs was already halfway down the hall. "Hoyt, help DiNozzo. Ziva! With me!"

Ziva snapped out of her trance and quickly followed Gibbs into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Gibbs threw the emergency switch. The lights dimmed as the elevator came to an abrupt halt.

"Gibbs," Ziva started.

"Don't apologize…sign of weakness," he said before she could get any further. "What do you know about these men?"

The woman shook her head and through up her hands. "I didn't recognize either of them, but they are definitely Hammas. They wanted information about one of my missions back before I came to NCIS. I…eliminated…a certain Hammas member…not that that was unusual…but he was one of the…uh…someone who was supposed to become one of the top officials soon."

"Your cover get blown?" Gibbs asked.

"No!" she said. "I made sure that I got out clean. But I wasn't the only one on that mission…if they found someone else…those terrorists want to know what my involvement was and what other missions are planned by Mossad."

Gibbs looked at her hard. "Do you know about current missions?"

Ziva dismissed the question. "Only vaguely, nothing classified…but the terrorists don't know that."

"Okay, go back and get every detail you can about that mission. Also, have McGee or Tony start running a facial recognition search on the terrorist database."

Gibbs flipped the emergency switch back. Ziva grabbed his arm.

"Gibbs," she said. "If they figure out that she's not me…." Ziva looked grave.

Gibbs looked back at her. "I know."

* * *

Jordan sat shivering, still tied to the chair. The room seemed much colder than it had before, though Jordan wasn't sure whether that was real or if it was just her mind's perception.

Once the man had turned off the camera, the beating had thankfully stopped. The two men hadn't said another word…just packed up the camera and left. Jordan still had no idea what they wanted, and she was not eager for them to return.

Her wish didn't come true. After what seemed like mere minutes, but was probably much longer, the door opened again. This time there was only one man, the taller one, and no video camera.

He bent down so that he was eye-level with Jordan. He reached out his hand and cupped her chin. Jordan pulled away.

Giving him the hardest stare she could muster, Jordan questioned him. "What do you want?"

The man chuckled. "Still defiant, I see," he said. It took Jordan a moment to realize that she could understand him, but then she asked again. "What do you want?"

"You cannot pretend that you do not know," he answered. "You heard it from us earlier. This act of yours—that you do not understand my language…well, I know you better than that."

Jordan shook her head, but stopped at the pain that shot through. "I don't speak…Arabic…or Hebrew…or whatever language you were using."

Her reward was a slap across the face. "Do not lie to me! Ms. David, I have known of you for years…you do not grow up in Israel and not speak Arabic!" the man yelled. "Now, tell me what Mossad is planning! Who does Operation Zodiac target?"

"Mossad?...David?...but I…." Jordan's brain was having a hard time keeping up with this man. Finally, everything slid into place. "No…you've got the wrong person…my name is Jordan!"

Another slap. "I said not to lie!" he said.

"I'm not lying!" Jordan said desperately. "I'm not Ziva…I was just working with her on a case! I swear!"

He laughed…a cold, harsh sound. "Do you really think I am that stupid?"

Jordan didn't answer, too afraid he might hit her again.

"You will tell me, in the end," he said. "You lie now, but you will tell me the truth."

"I can't tell you what I don't know!"

"Well, then…I will just have to find a way to…persuade you," he said. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. Jordan's eyes widened as he flicked it open.

He touched the side of her face with the blade. "Something for you to think about," he threatened. "What is it worth to you to keep lying to me?"

Quickly, he snapped the knife shut. Before Jordan could react further, the door was slammed and she heard the lock click. He was gone.


	9. Search

**Thanks for all of the reviews! It's harder than it looks to write a piece like this. I'm glad you all are liking it. Enjoy!**

Chapter Nine: Search…

It was cold…so cold that Jordan could see her breath. The floor that she was laying on was like ice. It numbed the cuts that now marred her arms, legs, and face, but gave the rest of her body little comfort.

Jordan was no longer tied up, but only because she didn't need to be. She couldn't raise her hands to push anyone away, much less stand up and try to escape. All she could do was lie there and pray that someone would find her, or that her captors would give up and kill her.

Every time that thought crossed her mind, images of Woody would pop up and push them all away. No matter how bad it got, Jordan couldn't give up. She knew Woody would not stop looking for her until he found her, so she had to stay strong for him. She only hoped it wouldn't be too much longer…

* * *

"What do you got, McGee?" Gibbs asked impatiently. The problem with all this techy stuff was that the results took way to long for a situation that required urgency.

McGee didn't even spare Gibbs a glance while replying. "We've followed this guy through several other computers…he's re-routing his signal through places all over the East Coast."

"We've already been through the New York Public Library, a school in Vermont…he's even used government sites to hide himself," Nigel added.

"How long?" Gibbs and Woody yelled.

This time, McGee did look up. "Don't know yet…it would help if there was a live feed we could follow," he replied quietly. Woody swore.

"Boss!" Tony called suddenly. "We got a match!"

Tony clicked the remote and pulled up a mug shot onto the plasma screen. The face staring back was the taller of Jordan's two assailants. "Meet Nazim Ahmad, Hamas terrorist."

Ziva took over. "He's been a low-profile member for just over five years, but started attracting more attention in the last six months when he kidnapped a somewhat high-profile Mossad agent. His specialty is interrogation and torture." She finished with a significant look at Gibbs, reminding him of their earlier conversation.

Gibbs turned away from the screen. "Get his background information—cell phone, address, easy bake oven wattage, everything! McGee, keep tracking that video!"

"On it, Boss!" three voices called back in unison.

* * *

"Wake up, gorgeous," Ahmad sneered. He kicked Jordan's side and she groaned.

He drew up the chair that Jordan used to be in, while his counterpart set the video camera up again. "Are you ready to talk to me? To tell me the truth?"

Jordan didn't answer…there was no point. She didn't know whatever he wanted, and denying it would only make things worse.

However, her silence didn't please him either. He grabbed Jordan by the hair and pulled her up until she was inches from his face. "TELL ME!"

"I don't…know." Jordan whimpered. Tears began to leak out of her eyes. She just couldn't take anymore.

"YOU DO!" Ahmad shouted. He threw her back on the floor. "I would have thought that my…incentives…would have persuaded you. It seems that you are tougher than you look."

Jordan whimpered again and tried to back away from him. Behind him, the camera was turned on and the other man joined him by Jordan's feet.

Ahmad took a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He laid them on the floor right in front of Jordan.

"Any second thoughts before we continue?" he said. "You can stop all of this, you know…all you have to do is tell me the truth."

Jordan shook her head. "Please…don't," she said. She renewed her attempts to get away from him, but the other man took hold of her feet so she was trapped. More tears came. When Ahmad reached down to pick up the items, Jordan cried out.

Without speaking, Ahmad lit a cigarette. Jordan watched him in fear, but he made no move toward her. He simply smoked the cigarette until it was gone. He took out two more, lit one for himself, and then on for his cohort.

The minutes dragged on…although Jordan was sure they would use the cigarettes to burn her, her body couldn't stay tense for that long. As soon as she relaxed fully, Ahmad grabbed her arm and moved the cigarette toward her exposed flesh.

"No!" Jordan screamed. She began to sob. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you whatever you need to know!"

Ahmad stopped. He put out the cigarette, but kept the lighter and the rest of the pack in his hands.

"You are Ziva David?" he asked.

Jordan nodded. "Yes."

"You work for Mossad?"

"Yes."

Ahmad smiled…it was an evil smile. "Now, tell me all about Operation Zodiac."

* * *

Nigel and McGee were still typing furiously on their keyboards. The computer made a noise, and both me watched in horror as another video feed came in. Nigel made a noise, but McGee stopped him from alerting the others.

"It'll just make Woody upset," he explained. "And now we can do the trace faster."

Nigel looked pained, but nodded.

The rest of the team had identified the other kidnapper, Jamil Abdar, and were trying to track down a place of residence. They were coming up empty, which was to be expected since the men were foreign and weren't supposed to be in the US at all.

Minutes ticked by like hours. All at once, both men stood up. This time, both of them shouted loud and clear: "We got it!"

The others ran over. "Where, Nigel?" Woody asked.

"In an abandoned warehouse at 5703 Pike Street," he replied.

By the time Nigel had spit out the full address, the rest of the team was halfway to the elevator, guns in their holsters.


	10. and Rescue

**Yay, another chapter! I think this chapter will give all of you what you've been wanting. Thanks for the reivews! And without further preamble...enjoy!**

Chapter Ten: …and Rescue

Jordan couldn't tell whether her shivering was from the cold or her fear. The one, small, rational part of her brain told her that the two men would figure out that she was lying quickly, and then she'd be in worse trouble than when this all started.

She was surprised they had believed her at all. She could barely string two words together, but managed to give them information based on what she had seen on TV and heard Ziva mention in passing…but it wouldn't be enough. Jordan's flimsy story would fall apart at the slightest investigation. Her only hope was that Woody would find her soon….

* * *

For the first time, no one complained about Ziva and Gibbs's driving techniques. The only problem was that they could not possibly drive fast enough to satisfy Woody and Nigel.

They arrived at the warehouse in 20 minutes flat. Everyone barreled out of the cars with their guns drawn.

"Townsend, you stay here," Gibbs ordered.

Nigel looked affronted. "But—"

"No buts! We need someone on the outside…radio for an ambulance," Gibbs explained. "We'll be on the other end of the radio in case we need you to point us to the way back or direct the ambulance when it gets here."

Nigel looked like he was going to protest more, but Woody nodded to him. "He's right, Nige. You don't even have a gun…you'll be more of a help back here."

Finally Nigel agreed and the rest of the team took off. Silently they ran toward the warehouse, listening for any noise. They found it on the side of the largest building, just outside of what looked like an office.

"We take them alive," Gibbs said before they opened the door.

Woody and Ziva both gave him looks that said "_Are you kidding?_"

"Gibbs, these men—," Ziva started, only to be cut off.

"Are completely replaceable to Hamas," Gibbs finished. "Us killing them will solve nothing. Hamas will just keep kidnapping and torturing people. We take them alive, send them to Gitmo, and get all the intel they have—then we can stop this from happening to others."

Both of them still looked mutinous, so Gibbs threatened them. "I'll send you two back right now if you don't follow my orders!"

Reluctantly they nodded. McGee and Ziva took one side of the door while Woody and Gibbs took the other. On the count of three, Tony kicked the door in.

For a moment that seemed like an eternity, no one heard anything. Then there was shouting and screaming.

"It's coming from that door on the far left!" McGee whispered. It was obvious that whoever was doing the yelling hadn't heard the door being forced open. They crept silently in again, this time listening to the voices coming from the closed door.

Two men, undoubtedly the terrorists, were shouting at the top of their lungs. Loud thuds were echoing through the walls, punctuated by a woman's screams. Woody swallowed hard, knowing that Jordan was in there. Gibbs said to take the men alive, but Woody wasn't sure he could stop himself from killing them.

The next door was kicked in by McGee, followed by shouts from the agents.

"NCIS!"

"Get back!"

"Freeze!"

Taken completely by surprise, the kidnappers jumped back in shock. Before they could react further, Ziva and Tony each had one terrorist pinned to the wall.

"What the—?" on culprit began, but was quickly cut off by Ziva.

"You are under arrest for kidnapping, assault, and stupidity," Ziva spat.

The terrorist tried to turn around, but that earned him a harsh slamming against the wall.

"Rule number 52," Tony said as he cuffed his captive. "When kidnapping someone for vital intelligence information, make sure you get the right person."

"What are you talking about?" the second kidnapper, Jamil Abdar, asked.

"I'm Ziva David, Mossad Officer," Ziva answered. Another shove. "She was telling the truth—you took the wrong girl! The only reason you are still alive is because we want to give you a taste of your own medicine. I hear Gitmo is lovely this time of year."

The terrorists struggled the whole time, causing Gibbs and McGee to have to help the other agents out of the door.

All the while, Woody's worries about killing the men were unfounded—he only had eyes for Jordan. She was lying so still on the floor, for a second Woody feared that she was gone. But upon a closer look, he could see her chest rise and fall with her breathing.

Carefully, he knelt down by her side. She looked bad—bruises and cuts everywhere, and her right arm looking like every bone was broken, all the way down to her fingers.

Not wanting to hurt her more, Woody very gently touched the side of her face with the back of his hand. Jordan cried out and tried to move away.

"It's okay…Jordan, it's me…it's okay, you're safe," Woody whispered, stroking her hair this time.

She cracked her eyes open to slits. "Wo…Woody?" she said. Tears fell from her eyes.

"Yeah, it's me," he said. He took her uninjured hand. "It's all right, honey. An ambulance was coming, just hang on." Her fingers wrapped around his. It was a weak grip, but a grip just the same.

Woody stayed with her while they waited for the ambulance, and then insisted that he ride to the hospital with her. The paramedics finally gave in. Jordan never let go of his hand; although she didn't say much, Woody knew she was in pain and scared.

"You're safe, Jordan…it's okay now," Woody repeated over in order, constantly reassuring her that he wasn't going to leave.

* * *

Once they were at the hospital, the nurse put an IV in Jordan's arm. The doctor came in soon afterward and mercifully prescribed morphine. As the doctor began assessing her wounds, Jordan felt herself slip away blissfully into sleep, knowing Woody was by her side taking care of her.


	11. Looking Out, Looking In

**Thanks for all your reviews! You all are great:-) Hope you enjoy...lots of fluff right here.:-D**

Chapter Eleven: Looking In, Looking Out

Woody stared at the ceiling as he idly stroked Jordan's hair. Shortly after the doctor had left, Woody had climbed up into the bed and nestled the sleeping Jordan against his side. She had been asleep for almost twelve hours now. Woody knew Jordan needed rest. Her body required it to begin healing, and emotionally she needed the escape. The morphine had knocked her out, but Jordan's mind kept her there.

Woody couldn't help but want her to wake up. Seeing her beautiful eyes would prove to him and she'd be okay—that she'd make it. Tenderly he kissed Jordan's forehead and settled further into the bed, deciding that he could probably use the rest as well.

* * *

Images and emotions swirled around Jordan's mind. She was in that weird place between sleep and wakefulness, and she couldn't get passed it. She didn't want to wake up, for fear that she would find herself back in that dark, cold room with the terrorists. But sleep wasn't providing relief anymore, as she couldn't sink low enough to get beyond the nightmares.

She felt herself being moved…hands were touching her. Fear flooding her, Jordan forced herself into consciousness with a gasp. Her eyes popped open and she struggled, trying to get away from the terrorists she thought were surely going to hurt her again.

"Jordan, it's okay," a voice said. It was calm…the terrorists weren't calm. They didn't know her name; they thought she was Ziva.

The voice called again, "Jordan…you're safe…it's okay, it's just the doctor." This time, the voice was accompanied by a hand gently running its fingers through her hair.

Jordan reached toward the voice with her one good arm. She caught a hand and squeezed it tightly. She strained her eyes to focus, and finally Woody's face came swimming into view.

Jordan immediately relaxed, despite the doctor's continuing examination of the stitches on her legs.

Woody smiled softly at her. "Hey," he said. "You're okay, Jordan…I'm here…no one is going to hurt you."

Jordan sighed and nodded, still to out of it to form words. She kept a tight hold on his hand and listened as the doctor started to speak.

"Welcome back, Dr. Cavanaugh. I'm Dr. Meyers," the woman said. "You seem to be in pretty good shape, considering. You're stitches are fine—there's no infection. There was no internal bleeding, just a lot of bruising. Your right arm and both your ankles are going to be in casts for about six weeks, and then you'll need some physical therapy. The only thing I'm really concerned with is pneumonia. You've got it in both lungs. I'm going to keep you here for a few days to monitor, just to be safe."

Jordan and Woody nodded. Even though she was a doctor, the words went right over her sluggish head. She felt like crap, whatever the doctor said, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

When Dr. Meyers finally left, Woody began fussing over her. "Would you like some water? Do you want to sit up? What do you need, honey?"

She just wanted to sleep, but Woody already had the water pitcher and a glass half full. He put a straw in the cup and held it up to her face. Realizing just how thirsty she was, Jordan gratefully took several big sips.

When she was finished, Woody put the cup away and sat down by her on the bed. He took her hand and stroked her hair again. "How're you feeling?"

She looked at him for a beat. "Okay," she whispered. He squeezed her hand. "I'm just…tired."

Woody nodded. "It's okay, Jordan…you can sleep…you need it."

"I know," she said. "But…I can't…I just…."

Her face screwed up into what Woody knew was pain—and probably fear—but he also knew that Jordan wouldn't voice it.

"Do you want more morphine?" he asked, jerking his thumb towards the door indicating the nurse.

"No." It was the strongest her voice had sounded yet. Woody almost laughed at her stubbornness.

"Okay," he replied.

Jordan closed her eyes, but they flew open after hardly a second. She sighed. "Are you…will you…stay?" she asked timidly, her eyes not quite reaching his.

He smiled. "Of course I'll stay," he said. Woody lay down carefully and eased Jordan into his arms. "I'll be right here."


	12. Insecurities

**Sorry this is later than usual. I think the weekends are actually getting shorter. The next chaper will probably be up in the next week and a half, since I'll be away from home all weekend. Thank you for the reviews from the last chapter! Enjoy!:-)**

Chapter Twelve: Insecurities

The NCIS team came by the next day. Jordan supposed that they wanted a statement, which they did, but she didn't expect Ziva to be so emotional.

"I am so sorry," Ziva said, for the fortieth time or so. "I can't believe this happened…it should have been me…it should have."

Jordan gave her a small smirk. "Yeah, it should have been." She sighed. "Honestly, Ziva, I'm not angry…not at you, at least. It wasn't your fault…it was completely out of your control."

"I know…but I was the target, and you weren't…well, you haven't been trained to handle these things," Ziva trailed off, unable to really explain herself.

"It's still not your fault," Jordan reiterated. "Really, I'll be fine…I'll heal. It's the terrorists who are going to pay."

At this, Ziva smiled. "They're already in Guantanamo."

"Bet it's a real party."

Both women smirked, and Ziva leaned over to give Jordan a hug. "Gibbs wants to get your statement now, if that's okay," she said.

Jordan nodded, and Ziva got up to leave.

As she did, Woody came over and sat on the bed with Jordan. He leaned back against the pillows and put his arm around her.

She was okay at first while Gibbs and McGee entered, but she tensed and looked away as soon as she saw DiNozzo. Woody felt her reaction and gave her a small squeeze, though he really didn't understand why Tony would upset her.

Gibbs must have noticed her mood change as well, because he caught Tony's eye and jerked his head out the door. Tony nodded once and he made his way back out.

The statement didn't take very long. Jordan couldn't remember much of what her captors had said, other than the questions they had asked her directly. She apologized for not being more helpful, but Gibbs assured her that she had done enough—they'd get anything else the terrorists knew from interrogations in Guantanamo.

McGee didn't say much of anything, just made notes as Gibbs listened. The statement was difficult for Jordan, but Gibbs stuck to the facts so she didn't have to dwell on the pain.

* * *

Woody had left after the NCIS team had, at Jordan's request. She said she wanted some alone time, but Woody didn't think she was being entirely truthful. Nevertheless, he honored her wishes and spent some time in the cafeteria with the bad coffee.

When he entered her room, however, Jordan's mood hadn't improved. Even worse, her irritation seemed to be directed at him.

As he walked in and sat down on her bed, Jordan didn't even acknowledge his presence. Instead, she stared fixedly out of the window. There was a hardness in her eyes that Woody usually associated with stubbornness, but that didn't make sense in this situation.

"Hey," he said softly and reached out to stroke her hair. Jordan jerked away. He looked at her for a beat and then asked, "What's wrong?"

"Go away."

His forehead creased. "Jordan…talk to me, honey. What's going on?"

"I said, go away!"

This time Woody cupped Jordan's face with his hand and gently turned her head so she was looking at him. He didn't say anything, but spoke volumes with his eyes. Jordan challenged him right back. "Go away."

Woody's eyes never left hers. "No," he said simply. "I'm not leaving you."

His words triggered both their memories, and seemed to be exactly what Jordan needed to hear. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed, looking down at her hands. Woody folded her into his arms and waited for her to start talking.

"I hate this…I just feel…I feel…helpless." The last word was almost inaudible. Then she tensed. "I can't do anything for myself. I can't walk, or brush my hair…I need help to go to the bathroom…Whatever someone wants me to do, I have to just deal with it because I can't move."

There was anger in her voice, but there was also fear. Jordan would never directly admit to it, but that was at the heart of her feelings. Being unable to take care of herself was definitely infringing on her need to be independent. But fundamentally, what happened to her had scared her.

Woody hugged her tighter when he felt wetness on his shirt. "I know, Jordan," he said. "I've been there…I know that saying that it'll get better doesn't help. I'm afraid that there's nothing I can do—not about your casts. But I will be here; I won't leave you."

He emphasized his last words again, wanting to leave no doubts in Jordan's mind.

"I don't want to be taken care of," she said obstinately. Woody almost chuckled.

"Don't think of it as that," he said. "Think of it as me pampering the love of my life."

She didn't react at first, until he kissed the top of her head. "You can deal with me?" she asked.

This time Woody did chuckle. "Oh, yeah. I've had lots of practice."

There was a beat of silence, then another question. "You sure you want to deal with me?

"There's nothing in the world I'd rather do."

With that, Jordan finally relaxed against him and gave in to his pampering.


	13. Home

**Sorry for the late update, once again. I'm back on track now. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Enjoy!:-)**

Chapter Thirteen: Home

Jordan sat on her bed, legs dangling, fidgeting with her recently-donned street clothes. Every few seconds she shot the wheelchair next to her a look that, had she had the power, would have sent it up in flames.

Woody appeared out of her bathroom, duffle bag in his hands. He looked up just in time to notice one of her murderous stares. He set the bag down and took a seat next to her. Softly he kissed her temple and took her good hand in his.

"You ready to go?" he asked gently. She looked up at him. Though no words were spoken, he read her face loud and clear—_If you put me in that thing, I will kill you_. He squeezed her hand. "How else are you going to get out of here?"

"Walk." Her tone was sharp.

Woody bit back both a laugh and a groan. "Not with two broken ankles, sweetheart." He reached up and ran a hand through her hair. "I could always carry you."

Jordan shook her head; that idea wasn't any better than the wheelchair.

"Well, then the only other option is to stay here for the next five weeks until your casts come off," he replied. Jordan shut her eyes and groaned. "Come one," he added, "It will only be a few minutes…it doesn't mean you're weak. It just means that your body needs to heal—it's a bit slower than your pride." His tone wasn't accusatory, or sarcastic. It was loving. Jordan sagged against him, a silent acknowledgement of his words.

Carefully, as if she was a china doll, Woody lifted Jordan up and sat her in the wheelchair. She tensed again, but didn't protest. He placed the duffle bag on Jordan's lap. She quickly clutched it to her chest, as if to shield herself.

Woody moved behind her and began to push the chair towards the door. Jordan's voice made him stop instantly. "Wait."

"What is it?"

Jordan swallowed and looked down. "Who is out there?"

Woody came around to the front. "Just Nigel. He's getting all the paperwork in order for you."

"Not Tony? Or anyone else?"

Woody cupped her chin and pulled her face up until she was looking at him. "Why does Tony bother you so much?"

Jordan shrugged, but then looked away. "It's just…it's kind of the same reason why I didn't want to talk to you. Tony…he's all macho, you know?"

Woody nodded. Yeah, he knew.

"I know he was looking at me before. I just don't want him to see me now because I'm not…I don't look like I did. I don't want him to give me that look—like suddenly I'm not the same person." She sighed.

Woody stroked her hair again. "You look fine…you're beautiful."

Jordan sighed again. "It's different with you; you love me. And you won't leave me alone anyway. I just don't like being…pitied. Gibbs and McGee, they're less…threatening, I guess. Tony is a flirt…and I don't want to feel…like I'm not good enough." Her face scrunched up; she knew it sounded lame.

The next thing she felt was Woody's lips gently touching hers. His kisses were so gentle, as were his reassurances that what Tony thought didn't matter—she was beautiful to him and nothing could change that. In spite of her feelings, Jordan couldn't help but believe him, even if only for a moment.

When they finally parted, Woody took his place behind the wheelchair once again. "Ready now?"

* * *

Despite sitting down the whole time, the long ride home was exhausting for Jordan. Nigel had surrendered the front seat for her, but she almost wished she was in the back. At least then she could have lain down, and maybe Woody wouldn't have felt the need to constantly ask her if she was all right.

With no wheelchair present this time, Woody's only choice was to carry Jordan up to her apartment. At this point, Jordan was just too tired to complain.

Once they were inside, Woody made straight for the bed. He artfully turned down the covers with Jordan still in his arms. He was just ready to put her in it when she stopped him.

"I can't."

Woody stopped, confused. "Why not? Sweetheart, you're worn out."

"But Woody…I'm all dirty…I haven't showered since before…everything," she explained.

Woody thought about it. The nurses had cleaned her wounds, but Jordan was right. There had been no place for her to really clean up.

"Uh…okay…we'll have to avoid your casts, though," he said. Turning around, he took Jordan into the bathroom. Tenderly he helped her bathe, making sure not to exacerbate any of her injuries. Once her hair was nearly dry, Woody carried her back to her bedroom and this time tucked her into bed without a problem.

"Are you staying?" she asked after he made sure she was comfortable.

"If you want me to," he replied. Jordan nodded. Woody kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed.

Once he was under the covers, Jordan snuggled up to him and laid her head on his chest. Woody wrapped his arms around her protectively. He talked to her idly for a while, until he realized that she was already asleep.

It was much harder for Woody to let himself go. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, simply content to stroke Jordan's hair and rub her back. After an hour, his eyes became too heavy and he slowly joined her in slumber.


	14. Taken Care

**Hello! Thanks to those of you who reviewed...hope the rest of you are still hanging in there. This chapter is more of a set-up for the third (and final) phase of the story. Enjoy and have a Happy Thanksgiving!**

Chapter Fourteen: Taken Care

For the next few weeks, Woody waited on Jordan hand and foot. He tried not to make it seem like a hospital, but more like a spa. Breakfast in bed was a common occurrence, as were massages and painting Jordan's nails.

Despite her pride, Jordan reveled in the attention. At times she even forgot that all the fuss was necessary—that she needed someone there to help her get around her own apartment. Woody was good about it, great even. Once again Jordan was faced with the overwhelming knowledge of how much she was loved.

The morgue family visited often as well. Bug and Lily came by every afternoon like clockwork. Nigel and Garret were just as frequent, if less punctual. Nigel always came with chicken noodle soup, yogurt, or some other homemade delicacy. Kate came by as well, though not as regularly.

Woody was there all the time, even when Jordan threatened to disembowel him if he didn't leave. At the beginning, she wondered how he had managed to get so much time off, but Woody's only explanation was that he'd called in a favor. Most of the time though—like when she woke up to coffee aroma and Woody caressing her cheek—Jordan's only thought was that she never wanted him to leave.

* * *

There was a knock at the door. Jordan and Woody gave each other puzzled looks…Garret had just left and the others would be at work for several hours yet. Woody gently removed Jordan's head from his lap and went over to the door. He looked briefly through the peep hole before opening it slightly. "Hi, Tony…what are you doing here?"

Upon hearing who it was, Jordan sat up from her place on the couch and quickly tried to straighten herself up. She tossed away the blanket and ran her hands through her hair. Woody noticed the gesture and gave her a smile—her preoccupation with her appearance would normally have been comical, but not right now.

Tony walked into the room brightly, completely unaware of the tension he was causing. "Hey, Cavanaugh! How's it going?"

Jordan managed a semi-polite reply before getting straight to the point. "Why are you here?"

Tony sobered a bit and became all business. "The…terrorists...they've been behaving just like little Hamas minions and haven't given up anything. We know that Hamas is planning a large-scale attack, but we don't know who or what they're targeting."

Jordan was unimpressed. "So? I mean, that sucks, but I don't have anything to do with it." By that time Woody had resumed his seat on the couch and he was surreptitiously rubbing Jordan's back.

"Gibbs wanted me to see if you had remembered anything else," Tony answered.

"Well, I don't." Her reply was short. Despite all of the physical progress she had made, Jordan was still unwilling to talk about what had happened. She preferred to keep it locked tight inside her self, not even letting Woody break that barrier. She had promised to talk to Dr. Stiles once her legs had healed, but she wouldn't consider it before then.

Tony sighed. "Jordan," he started. "Just think about it…was there anything they said that could be construed as part of a terrorist attack?"

"No! I've already told you everything I know," she said. "Most of the time they weren't even speaking English…and I wasn't concentrating on what they said anyway. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"Are you sure—?"

"Yes. Now please leave."

Tony's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and he looked at Woody for an explanation. Woody merely shook his head, telling Tony not to push it.

"All right." He stood to leave. "But if you do remember anything, please call." He placed a business card on the coffee table and walked to the door.

"I will…," Jordan said audibly. The door opened and shut behind Tony. "Not."


	15. Nightmares

**Hello, hello! Here's the next chapter...hopefully this isn't moving too slowly for you all. Thanks for all of the reviews!! Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Fifteen: Nightmares

Jordan had been having nightmares off and on since she got home, but that night one came in full force. Woody awoke to Jordan's tossing and turning seconds before she bolted upright and screeched.

Woody quickly turned to her and tried to gather her in his arms, but Jordan pushed him away and screamed again. His mind clearing from sleep, Woody realized that Jordan wasn't fully awake and didn't know he was Woody.

Slowly this time, Woody reached out and touched Jordan's shoulder. She flinched, but didn't back away. She was staring at him with wide eyes, but not really seeing him. "Jordan," he called softly. He shook her gently. "Jordan, it's me…Woody. Come on, wake up."

Woody watched as Jordan's eyes focused. She shook her head and looked around the room. When she realized that she was safe in her apartment, her shoulders sagged. Woody relaxed briefly until he saw Jordan shudder.

Immediately Woody pulled Jordan close, hearing a small sob escape just before her head reached his chest. He gave her a tight squeeze and said, "Let it out, Jordan."

Jordan's hands grabbed his shoulders and the dam broke. She cried so hard that her whole body shook. As her tears soaked through Woody's shirt, he felt both sorrow and relief. He ached for Jordan, hating to see her in so much pain. On the other hand, he knew that she had been holding everything inside and that it needed to come out in order for her to heal. Now maybe she could.

Woody didn't say anything as Jordan continued to cry. Words weren't necessary as long as he held her tight. Alternately rubbing her back and stroking her hair, Woody comforted her until the sobs eased up and Jordan started talking.

"I'm s-sorry," she said. Before Woody could say anything about her apology, she continued. "I…I just thought that I was back there…everything w-w-was happening again and…and…"

Another squeeze. "You're safe, Jo," Woody said. "No one is going to hurt you here."

"I know," she whispered. "I was just so scared."

Woody kissed the top of her head. "I know." He held her silently for a few minutes before asking, "Did you dream it just like it happened?"

Jordan nodded.

"Tell me about it."

Jordan tensed, but with a bit more coaxing and the assurance of Woody's strong arms around her, Jordan finally let the story spill from her lips. At times it was interrupted by more tears, but Jordan felt the release from talking about it. Once the words had started, she couldn't stop them.

Afterwards, the two sat in a comfortable silence. Woody wiped his own tears away as Jordan nestled her face into his chest. Despite everything, it felt so good just to be in each other's arms. Jordan was relaxed for the first time in weeks.

* * *

That morning, Woody was making breakfast while Jordan nursed a cup of coffee. After their impromptu therapy session, the couple had slept in late. It was really closer to afternoon now.

Jordan hadn't said much since they got up. Woody figured that she needed some space, and was trying to be patient. He didn't want her to disappear back into her shell now that she had finally come out of it.

That wasn't what was happening, though. Jordan's nightmare had made her remember some things, and now she had to decide what to do about it. The coffee helped her wake up and think more clearly, but Woody was the strongest factor. She knew that he would be right by her side no matter how complicated things got…or how complicated she got.

Woody joined her at the table, giving her his patented all-dimples smile. Jordan couldn't help but smile back. He was going to say something, but Jordan beat him to it.

"I think I should call Gibbs."

That was not what Woody had expected her to say, and it showed. Jordan chuckled at his puzzled face.

"Uh…okay," was all he could say.

Jordan shrugged. "My dream last night…I think maybe I know more than I think I know about what was going on…I mean, what Tony was trying to get from me."

Woody nodded, understanding what Jordan meant even through the ambiguous phrases. "You sure you want to do this?"

Jordan looked down at her hands. "No," she admitted. "But if I don't, and something bad happens, I'll never forgive myself."

"All right."

They began to eat, but Woody stopped before he really got started. "You did say, though, quite stubbornly, that you would not call Tony back," he reminded her.

Jordan gave him one of her trademark smirks, and Woody's heart soared because she was beginning to return to normal. "Yes, I did say that I wouldn't call _Tony_. I never said anything about not calling _Gibbs_."

* * *

Within a few hours of the phone call, Jordan and Woody were on a plane heading to Washington DC. As soon as Jordan had mentioned the possibility of having information, Gibbs had insisted she come see him. She had protested, wanting to just have the conversation over the phone, but Gibbs was adamant that she be in person.

Jordan fidgeted in her seat. She wanted to get this over with quickly. She was just figuring out how to live in spite of her ordeal…she hoped that Gibb's crusade wouldn't plunge her right back into it.


	16. Thwarted

**Resolved: I, AnaEvely, do solemnly swear that I will update this story, and any others that I write, in one-week intervals on the weekends. **

**Okay, so there's one more chapter after this, and then I'll have another story up soon...and I'll really update it regularly! Please review! Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Sixteen: Thwarted

The wheelchair having finally become an absolute necessity, Woody wheeled Jordan into the NCIS headquarters where they were met by Ziva. The reunion was pleasant, but brief. Instead of taking the two into the bullpen, Ziva led them up to the conference room.

The table was too tall for Jordan to stay in the wheelchair, so Woody helped her into a seat while Ziva got coffee for them. Sitting in the chair where the only injury still visible was a broken arm made Jordan feel almost normal. The coffee was hot and dark, just the way she liked it. Jordan thought that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Gibbs and Tony entered soon after, and the three agents took seats on the opposite side of the table. Always the workaholic, Gibbs got right to the point.

"You said that you remembered more about what the terrorists were planning," he said, directing his gaze at Jordan.

Not quite sure where to begin, Jordan swallowed. "Yeah," she said. "I…I'm not sure that it means anything, though."

"At this point, anything will be helpful," Tony offered. "The terrorists aren't giving up anything…they won't even admit that they had the wrong person."

Woody started to say something, but Jordan stopped him with a hand on his leg. "It's okay," she said to him softly.

Turning back to Gibbs, she began. "It was towards the end…they were speaking in English, which was unusual…most of the time they used Arabic. The taller one…the leader…he said something about being reactive and proactive at the same time." Jordan closed her eyes and tried to focus her memories. "He said that even if they didn't get the information they wanted from me, that the bigger mission could still succeed."

"What was that mission?" Gibbs asked, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt.

Jordan was silent, trying to remember more from her dream. "Something about…about things happening in both Israel and the United States…something with leadership?" she paused. "The leadership in Mossad and…someone in the US who is working with Mossad to stop Hamas. Does any of this make sense?" Jordan looked up at them, feeling like she wasn't being any help at all.

Ziva came through. "Some of it does," she answered. "Hamas was planning an attack on the Mossad leadership—my father is the Deputy Director, that's one reason why they wanted me—but we've taken care of that threat already."

"Mossad was working on a similar operation to take out the Hamas leadership—the other reason they wanted to get to Ziva. But that's also dead in the water," Gibbs added. "Do you remember anything else about the American target?"

Jordan felt her eyes sting. She had left her home—her hideaway—and come all the way to DC to be told that her experience was worthless. She looked away. "There's nothing else…the rest of the time they were speaking in Arabic. I didn't understand them."

Woody squeezed her hand under the table, but it didn't alleviate Jordan's despair. She sighed. "Maybe if you check the video that they sent you, Ziva could translate."

"We've done that already—there's nothing there." This time Gibbs made no attempts to hide his irritation.

"There wasn't much talking on the videos," Tony said. "Only the…physical parts."

Puzzled, Jordan looked up. "But they talked all the time," she said softly. "And the camera was on as long as they were in the room…they were going to kill me anyway, there was no reason for them not to talk about Hamas's plans."

"We checked both the feed that they sent to us and the camera's memory itself…there was nothing," Ziva said.

"But there has to be!" Jordan cried, frustrated.

Tony turned to Gibbs. "What if they erased everything after they sent the videos to us? Could we get the stuff back?"

Gibbs looked back at Tony. "Abby would know."

* * *

Nearly three hours later, the team was sitting in the bullpen watching the newly-recovered video feeds that Abby and McGee had coaxed from the video camera. As she took in what the terrorists were saying, Ziva's eyes got bigger and bigger. "This is huge, Gibbs," she kept saying.

Jordan felt like she was releasing a breath that she'd been holding since arriving in DC. It hadn't been worthless…what she went through would save at least one person's life.

Ziva's subsequent explanation of the videos was sobering. The American operative Hamas targeted was none other than the head of the CIA…and there was much, much more planned. It seemed that Hamas had figured out how to take out half of Israel's capital in one day with several meticulously designed attacks.

The end of the whole ordeal was rather anti-climactic. Gibbs only had to make a phone call to Mossad in Israel, and they handled the rest. Jordan and Woody learned about the dramatic take-down by watching the national news in their hotel rooms.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Jordan slept all the way through the night.


	17. The End

**So here we are...not a very long chapter, but it didn't really need to be. Chapter 16 took care of so much. I'll hopefully start my next story next week...I have the topic, but not much of the plot thought out. Hope this is a sufficient ending for those of you who have stuck with it.**

**Oh, and here's a straw poll for my next story. Without saying anything else about the context, would you rather it revolve around the American Revolution or the Great Depression?**

**Enjoy:-)**

Chapter Seventeen: The End

"You know, you can keep these," the doctor said facetiously after he was finished removing Jordan's casts.

"Yeah…I don't think so," Jordan replied. "I don't want to see them ever again…you can burn them for all I care."

The doctor chuckled. "Just checking," he said as he walked out of the room.

Jordan turned to Woody. "You ready to leave, Detective?"

"You're not done yet," he taunted. "You have to make appointments for physical therapy…you know you can't just get up and walk like nothing happened."

She rolled her eyes. "Isn't six weeks of torture enough? I mean, not only have I been forced into wheelchairs, but all Garret has let me do since I came back is paperwork!"

This time, Woody sniggered. "Jordan, Garret would have made you do paperwork even if we had never gone to DC…you're like a year behind on that stuff."

Jordan's only response was a glare. Then she tried to get off the exam table, but her legs wouldn't let her stand. Woody reacted just in time to prevent Jordan from a hard landing on the floor.

"Take it easy," he said softly. "Just a little bit longer…then you won't need any help."

Surprisingly, Jordan pulled Woody closer. She looked up at him. "Doesn't mean you can't help me anyway," she said coyly.

Woody transferred her to the wheelchair where they shared a brief kiss. As they left the room, Jordan tested her arm's strength…it faired better than her legs, but then her arm wasn't required for standing.

Jordan insisted on finishing the day at the morgue—"I'm perfectly capable of sitting at a desk, thank you very much—," and all but forced Woody to drive her there. After indulging her for a few hours, Garret (with prompting from Woody) kicked the pair out and they were back in Jordan's apartment.

They sat down to a spaghetti dinner complete with Woody's trademark sauce. "Wonder how the NCIS bunch is doing?" Woody asked seemingly offhand.

"Ziva is fine…as for the others, don't know, don't care," Jordan replied.

Woody looked up. "When did you talk to her?" He knew that the two women had been exchanging the occasional phone call, but he hadn't heard about the last one.

"Yesterday while you were at work," she said. Then she smiled devilishly. "Her team has a new case, and she wanted my opinion. You see, the guy they found had a—"

"Stop right there!" Woody said, holding his hand up. He gestured towards his plate. "I'm eating, which will make whatever disgusting dead-body-related thing you're about to say seem ten times worse that it would normally."

Jordan laughed. After a few more minutes, she got serious. "Thank you, Woody," she said quietly.

"What for?"

She looked up, almost embarrassed. "You know…helping me, putting up with me…making me see Stiles…not leaving."

"Jordan, I'd do it all again if something else happened to you…but I'd rather it not," he said back. "And I will never leave you."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

Jordan took a breath. "Good…because there's this Shakespeare Festival coming up in a few weeks, and I thought that it would be fun for us to go to."

Woody groaned and Jordan laughed. And it was the end…but at the same time, it was the beginning.


End file.
